


if i drink enough

by nostalgics



Category: Jennifer's Body (2009)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 01:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgics/pseuds/nostalgics
Summary: "I love you and that’s the beginning and end of everything." - F. Scott Fitzgerald—if i drink enough, i swear that i will wake up next to you; the aftermath of jennifer's death





	if i drink enough

**Author's Note:**

> (lyrics featured are from king princess' talia)

Needy Lesnicki was made a pariah after she was arrested for the murder of Jennifer Check. The news made its way to front pages and broadcasts all across the nation. It's unsurprising, considering she was also being investigated for the murders of Jonas Kozelle, Colin Gray, and Chip Dove. Needy found it ridiculous that that was the conclusion everyone came to—how could they think that she killed those boys, when everything she did was to avenge their deaths?

How could people not understand the Needy was actually the hero of this story?

On the day of Jennifer Check's funeral, Needy is released from county jail on bond.

"It was that guy from the band Low Shoulder, or whatever they're called," the police officer sneered as he handed Needy back her belongings. "That song of theirs sure is catchy though."

Needy almost laughs at that, like it was some sort of sick joke. She doesn't. There's this tightness in her throat, and she only nods, before grabbing her things and walking out the door. On the taxi ride back home from jail, the driver gives Needy a once-over.

"You look like that murder girl from the news."

Once again, Needy doesn't say anything. There isn't anything for her to say, and to be honest, she isn't sure if her vocal cords even word anymore—she hasn't said a single word since she killed Jennifer.

Needy returns to an empty home. The lights are off, and she can hear her footsteps echo as she steps on the creaky floorboards of her childhood home.

Her mother called her once, while she was in jail. She told Needy she went to visit her grandparents, voice crackling through the staticky receiver of the cheap phone. Needy didn't say anything in response, simply hanging up the phone and returning to her cell.

She knew that the real reason her mother left town was because she couldn't bear to even look at her daughter anymore. 

Needy doesn't blame her. Because when she looks in the mirror, she doesn't recognize the person looking back at her. Not the dark circles under her eyes, or the limp, greasy hair, or the blood spatter she keeps seeing across her face even though she knows she washed it off. 

Now Needy is home again, all alone. It's oddly reminiscent of the first time Jennifer died, but this time Needy isalone in every sense of the word. No best friend, no boyfriend, no parent, and not even a self she really knows. 

The memorial service for Chip Dove was held in the few days Needy spent in jail, not that she would've been welcome there anyway. The entire damned town thinks  _she_ was the person who killed him.

And even though she was in lockup, it wasn't as if she hadn't heard the news. It was on radio stations and news networks everywhere. Devil's Kettle Killer caught red-handed. Crazed girl kills four people—how many others are there? Teenage girl kills best friend and boyfriend in murder frenzy.

Some cop even slides a copy of the local paper through the bars of her cell for her to read, opened up to the page with a quote from Chip's mother, detailing how she broke down during the funeral service, shouting that it was all Needy's fault. Needy started to think that maybe it was.

“Barely a few hours before my son was found dead, his girlfriend—his killer,” she corrects herself, “asked me if I had seen him, and I gave her directions. _I gave her directions_.” She started sobbing. “She killed her boyfriend, and then barely a few hours later, she killed her own best friend. What kind of a person _does_ that?”

Like many other things these days, the article makes Needy want to scream. She didn’t kill Chip, she was trying to save him. She was a good person. 

But of course, no one cared for her side of the story, and she didn't bother tell it anyway. 

It does strike Needy as kind of funny though, that she is released from jail barely hours before Jennifer's service was scheduled to start. It was as if Nikolai Wolf wanted to play one last cruel joke on her, because Needy knows now that there is no such thing as coincidence. 

Of course, she wasn't invited to Jennifer's funeral either. And though she knows better than to just show up, she does anyway. She puts on the black dress and black hat she wore to the many other funerals she attended this past year, and carefully does her makeup.

Jennifer always called her "way too dramatic," because Jennifer herself never bothered to attend any of those funerals. She reasoned that "they're already dead, so it's not like they know you're there."

Yet Needy hopes Jennifer knows she's going to hers, from wherever she is now. Probably not heaven, but still. 

She calls another taxi—this time, a man who definitely recognizes her, but knew well enough to not comment. It's quite possible that he was simply too scared to be Needy's next victim.

When Needy finally arrives at Jennifer Check's wake, no one knows what to say. No one expected her to just show up at a service for the person she murdered.

They just stand there, and stare at her for a moment. Then everyone starts whispering, not daring to look her in the eye. Needy realizes that this is the first time everyone is talking about  _her_ and not Jennifer, and it's at Jennifer's fucking funeral.

She manages to walk all the way up to the front of the room without being stopped. It's an open casket-ceremony, with a casket made of rich mahogany. The body of the still-beautiful Jennifer Check lies there, in a deep red dress. She's cold, and pale, and dead. Actually dead.

It shocks Needy a little, because until this moment, there was still a little part of her that didn't think Jennifer was actually dead. And there was another, even littler part of Needy that didn't want Jennifer dead to begin with.

Then suddenly, Jennifer's mom screams. Needy doesn't blame the woman, really. After all, the last time she laid eyes on Needy, it was with her pulling a box-cutter out of her daughter. Needy gets why she screamed. She would've too, if she's being honest. 

She doesn't say anything though. Instead, she lets herself be dragged out of the service by a beefy man with a familiar face and a tear in his eye. Roman—the cadet Jennifer was fucking. And Needy laughs. Actual, full-on laughter. It's the first noise she makes since her initial arrest, and no one knows what to make of it. Because what type of person laughs at the funeral of the dead best friend they killed?

Later, when she comes back to her empty home, it finally hits her that Jennifer is really gone. It seems almost impossible, because after all, there has been more than one occasion when Needy thought her best friend was dead, only for Jennifer to show up right in front of her, perfectly alive. But every other time, Needy didn't feel the box-cutter blade stab into Jennifer's heart, and every other time, Needy didn't see Jennifer's body in a literal coffin.

Jennifer is dead, and Needy feels empty. 

Usually, in times like these, Needy would call her best friend, or even her boyfriend—but he's dead too. She desperately searches for something to fill the void inside of her, until she finds a forgotten bottle of expensive vodka in the kitchen cupboards, probably from when her mother still drank. She twists off the cap, taking a huge swig—it burns going down her throat, but it's a welcome sensation. It makes her heart pound, and she wonders what Jennifer felt in the moments before her death.

She stays seated on the cold tile floor of the kitchen, listening to the drips of the leaky faucet. She's never been a drinker, but that doesn't stop her from downing a third of the bottle in what feels like no time at all.

She never saw the appeal in drinking, and she's underage anyway. She liked her life the way it was, and she didn't see a reason to alter it with the help of a substance that might kill her. Clearly, the circumstances have changed. 

Jennifer on the other hand, always enjoyed life with a side of drinking. “Live a little,” she’d always say, with a cocktail glass in her hands and a mischievous smile on her face.

Thinking of Jennifer makes Needy’s heart ache in a way she doesn’t understand, so she takes another gulp of the fiery liquid, coughing as it travels through her. The cough then transforms into a chuckle, and Needy is suddenly laughing loudly, the sounds echoing through the empty house. It’s one of those laughs that come from deep inside a person, when something is so truly funny. Because it kind of is, in a sick and twisted sort of way.

She laughs, and thinks about her best friend. Slowly, she makes her way back to her bedroom, taking a drink every several steps, the liquid spilling onto her shirt as she clumsily climbs the stairs in her intoxicated state. She reachers her bed and lies down, tossing the half-empty bottle across the room, rolling across the hardwood floor noisily. This room is somehow one of the few familiar things left in Needy's life, still just as Needy left it before she left to kill her best friend.

She remembers the way she and Jennifer grew up in this very room. The way Jennifer danced to Fall Out Boy songs on the radio, standing right across from where she's seated right now. She can almost see the other girl standing there, under the pale lights, casting shadows onto the walls. Hips swaying, throwing her head back laughing, making some obscure pop culture reference in the hopes of getting Needy to dance along. But this time she isn't.

Needy would be sitting there in the bed, as she is right now, laughing as she is right now. But then Jennifer would always sit down on the bed next to her, shoulders and thighs pressed against Needy's, head on Needy’s shoulder. But this time she isn't.

The two would always lay next to each other, talking into the late hours of the night. About life, and love, and their futures. Futures where they'll always be in each others lives. Futures the two won't be able to have anymore. Oftentimes, the two wouldn't even be talking, instead their lips would be busy kissing each others, Needy's fingers tangled in Jennifer's hair and Jennifer’s gently holding Needy by the waist. But this time she isn't.

For a small second, Needy could almost taste Jennifer's cherry lip gloss against her lips instead of the harsh taste of the bitter vodka. She could almost hear Jennifer whisper into the crook of her neck, that "this is just practice for when we end up kissing salty boys," though both of them knew deep down that what she said wasn't true. Still neither of them would say another word. Because Jennifer kissed Needy like she needed to be kissed, and Needy believed her. This time, there was nothing left to believe in.

Then every time, they would wake up in the morning, in each other's arms. That's why Needy dreads going to sleep this time, because she knows that when she finally wakes up, Jennifer won't be there. In her place, there will only be a pounding in her head, and an aching in her chest. 

But right now, even though Jennifer isn't here, the warmth of the vodka is almost enough. And Needy can almost pretend that everything is okay, and Jennifer is next to her. That's all she wants right now. It's all she has.

**Author's Note:**

> just a short fic i wrote bc i recently rewatched the movie and felt that this song really fits with the movie. also because i needed something else to write while i work on my longer jennifer's body fic. 
> 
> tumblr @nostalgics


End file.
